


i'll hold you close, tell me the memories that you miss the most

by sweetdisaster



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I guess yeah, Idk what to tag this as, M/M, Miscommunication, but more so, i guess sldkfj technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdisaster/pseuds/sweetdisaster
Summary: Harry shifts, closing his eyes tightly for a brief moment before opening them again. He didn’t know what he was doing there anymore than Louis did. How was he supposed to answer that question? ‘I woke up and you weren’t there.’ He couldn’t say that. Louis’ hasn’t been by his side when he wakes up for the last three months of his life. That answer wouldn’t be good enough. No answer would be good enough.“I,” Harry starts, quickly stopping to inhale slowly. He fills his lungs with enough oxygen that it settles his whirling stomach, shaking his head once. “I don’t know.” Is what he finally whispers, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down. “I woke up without you, I guess. Again.”orthe fic where harry has some stuff to work through and they broke up because he couldn't talk about it but now harry's shown up at louis' at 2 in the morning and they have to talk about it
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	i'll hold you close, tell me the memories that you miss the most

**Author's Note:**

> i came up with this lil baby fic thanks to jp saxe's song "explain yourself". i only know angst, but wanted a happy ending. i hope you like it and if you don't, well, you don't have to tell me. 
> 
> love you bye! 
> 
> you can find the tumblr post here: https://ghostiekatie.tumblr.com/post/622047681136705536/ill-hold-you-close-tell-me-the-memories-that-you

_Just knock on the door. It’s fine. Just knock._ Harry rolls his shoulders and swallows thickly, bringing his hand up to knock on the door. _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no._ He gently knocks on the door, then again with a little more force -- the point was for Louis to actually answer, after all. Harry brings his hand down and quickly steps back, shaking his head. This was not his best idea. He should go. He should definitely leave. 

Just as he turns to walk away, head back to his car and forget this entire night happened -- who even goes to their ex’s house at two in the morning, anyway? -- he hears the door open. Harry stills as he hears it shut and Louis step forward.

“H?” Louis’ voice is tired. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” Harry can hear the frown in his voice. “Is Gem and your family okay?”

Harry nods stiffly, turning around. His eyes are still wet with his tears from the car and he just knows Louis can tell that he’s been crying no matter how hard he tried to erase the evidence. “They’re fine,” he responds, looking up. When their eyes meet, Harry knows the moment Louis sees he’s upset. 

“Harry,” Louis says slowly, cautiously, confusion clear in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” It feels like Louis wants to step forward and Harry’s not sure if he’s relieved or hurt by the fact that he doesn’t. 

Harry shifts, closing his eyes tightly for a brief moment before opening them again. He didn’t know what he was doing there anymore than Louis did. How was he supposed to answer that question? _‘I woke up and you weren’t there.’_ He couldn’t say that. Louis hasn’t been by his side when he wakes up for the last three months of his life. That answer wouldn’t be good enough. No answer would be good enough. 

“I,” Harry starts, quickly stopping to inhale slowly. He fills his lungs with enough oxygen that it settles his whirling stomach, shaking his head once. “I don’t know.” Is what he finally whispers, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down. “I woke up without you, I guess. Again.” 

He doesn’t meet Louis’ eyes, even in the silence of the moment. Harry’s too busy thinking about the three months worth of unsent texts built up in his head from every time he woke up, afraid, lonely and without Louis. When Louis finally speaks, Harry tenses. 

“It’s been three months.” 

“I know.” 

Harry hears Louis’ exhale of breath and he only looks up when he hears the sound of Louis’ front door opening. 

“C’mon, then,” Louis says quietly. “We’ll get some tea made. Have a chat, I guess. Can’t send you home like this.” 

Harry knows he should argue. Knows he should say no, admit the mistake that was coming to Louis’ house at two in the morning, and go home. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be making Louis’ life anymore difficult than it needs to be. They broke up for a reason, after all. And that reason included that Louis needed to take care of himself and Harry needed to do the same. It was painful, realizing they weren’t doing much good for themselves by staying together, even after a year, but it was mutual.

“Milk and sugar?” Louis asks, getting Harry out of his thoughts. 

“Please,” Harry says quietly, setting his bag by the door and taking his shoes off before walking over to the barstools. He watches Louis start the kettle, sitting down on one of the stools and looking around. Harry doesn’t know how much time passes before he hears Louis clear his throat and place a mug in front of him. 

“Here,” Louis says gently, gesturing towards the couch. “Wanna go sit?” 

“Technically,” Harry starts quietly in an attempt to lighten the mood and looks up at Louis. “I’m already sitting.”

Louis just raises an eyebrow, but Harry can see the twitch of his lips. “H, c’mon.” 

Harry nods as he gets up, carefully grabbing the mug and following behind Louis. He sits down at the end of the couch beside one of the arm rests, shifting cautiously, trying to get comfortable and also not spill his tea. He watches Louis as the boy grabs a blanket from the chair, handing it to Harry before sitting down as well. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, looking up at Louis and meeting his eyes for the first time in probably twenty minutes. “You didn’t have to invite me in. Or do any of this.” 

Louis lets out a breath, nodding. “I didn’t,” He agrees. “But it’s you. And you’re important.” 

Harry gives him a tight-lipped smile, bringing the mug up to his mouth and sipping on the tea. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re here?” Louis asks again, raising an eyebrow. “For real, this time? What about waking up alone hits hard tonight, out of all nights?” And, though the words themselves seem harsh to Harry, Louis’ voice is gentle. His voice is always gentle. Full of care. 

It’s the dreams, Harry knows. The dreams that never stop and the thoughts that overwhelm his mind at night. The dreams have been haunting his subconscious for as long as he can remember. They seemed to at least settle when Louis was around. He doesn’t want to tell Louis that, though. Doesn’t want to admit that they never fully stopped.

“I don’t know what I’m doing without you,” Harry admits, finally answering Louis’ question, his voice laced with exhaustion. “I can’t -- they don’t stop. The dreams and the thinking. I’m always thinking.” He sighs. “ I can’t sleep without you. I mean, I couldn’t sleep anyway, but it’s worse without you.” 

When Harry looks up and meets Louis’ eyes once more, he can easily tell that Louis is both confused and concerned. 

“I thought you weren’t having the nightmares anymore?” 

“For a minute,” Harry says. “They got better. I think having you around helped? I dunno. But whenever we had a disagreement or something, they would get worse. Like, even if we talked it through. And it’s just been kind of nonstop since I left.” 

“Is that why,” Louis pauses. “Is that why you were always acting so weird? So distant?” 

Harry shrugs. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Didn’t want you to worry,” Harry admits, voice quiet. 

“Harry, I always worry,” Louis says, and he’s frowning. “You’re literally the love of my life. If you can’t talk to me about these things so we can properly work through it and get you better, then what’s the point?” 

“You have your own shit, Lou,” Harry tells him, shrugging a bit. “I know it’s a whole team thing. And I just, I felt like if I couldn’t even help you with your shit then you shouldn’t have to help me with mine.” 

Louis looks defeated now. He’s watching Harry carefully and Harry shifts under his gaze. 

“I hope I never made you feel like I didn’t want to help you even if you couldn’t help me right then,” Louis tells him, setting his mug on the table beside the couch. “You are so important to me. I wanted to help you with everything.” 

“It wasn’t you,” Harry tells him, shaking his head. “Nothing about me not telling you was your fault. It’s all me.” 

Louis nods, eyes still unsure. 

“I promise,” Harry assures, meeting Louis’ eyes. “It was not you. I’m just kind of terrible about opening up.” 

They both go quiet then. There isn’t really any way to fight that particular truth. Louis’ known that about Harry since they met. As they sit on the couch together, it feels a little like old times. Harry finishes his tea and sets the mug down on the coffee table, fighting back a yawn. He’s so tired. Knows that Louis is too. 

“Alright, love,” Louis says gently. Harry’s heart jumps at the endearment. “How about you try and get some rest, yeah? The couch is all yours.” 

Harry’s a little, no, very unsure about that. He shakes his head. 

“I should go,” Harry responds, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t wanna overstay.” 

“You’re not. Get some sleep, please. We can talk more in the morning, I promise.” 

Harry hesitates for a moment, watching Louis carefully before nodding. 

“If you’re sure,” He says slowly.

“I am.” 

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs and Louis just nods. He watches as Louis gets up from the couch, grabs their mugs and heads to the kitchen. Harry listens to the sound of Louis rinsing the mugs and placing them in the sink, leaning back against the couch. 

Louis walks back into the living room after a few minutes, a thicker blanket and a couple of pillows in hand. 

“Here you go,” He says, handing them to Harry. “Make yourself comfy, okay? If you need water or anything -- just get it.” It’s so reminiscent of when they were living together and Harry’s chest aches with the memory of it. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, watching as Louis’ nods again and walks to the bedroom after flipping the light switch. 

Harry shifts on the couch, placing the pillows near the arm rest and pulling the two blankets over him. It’s strange, being back here. Harry didn’t think he ever would be. Of course, he also never thought he would show up to Louis’ uninvited, but. Look at where that got him. 

He doesn’t know why Louis hasn’t kicked him out. Why, instead of telling him to just go home, Harry’s now lying on Louis’ couch with a blanket over him. Why he let Harry fall asleep on the same couch they spent numerous nights on until they decided they didn’t work anymore. 

Harry also doesn’t know why, when he wakes up shaking and fighting tears, trying hard not to yell out about two hours later, Louis was already on his way back to the living room. Like he just knew. But Harry guesses Louis always knows. 

It’s quiet as Louis sits down on the floor in front of the couch, leaning back against it in front of Harry’s torso. Harry thinks Louis brought a blanket with him. 

“I almost call, sometimes,” Louis admits about ten minutes into their silence, shifting slightly so he’s angled towards Harry. Not that he can really tell since the room is dark, the only light being the moon shining through the window and the one annoying light on the television. “To check on you.” He adds, as if it weren’t obvious. 

Harry clears his throat gently. “Why?” 

“Because I know how you are,” Louis says. “Know how you were, at least.” 

“But you never do,” Harry acknowledges, his voice quiet, but still a little hoarse.

“No,” Louis agrees. “I don’t. Always talk myself out of it. Feel like it’s not fair to call.” 

They sit in silence for a bit before Harry finds it in him to respond.

“I’d like it if you called,” he says, looking up at the ceiling. He reaches up to rub at his eyes. “I almost text sometimes. Think I’ve almost texted you once a night. It’s hard,” he says. “Navigating this without you. And I know that’s bad. I know that’s part of why--” Harry stops, letting out a breath. “Why we broke up.” 

“Are you still going to see Chelsea?” Louis asks him after a moment of Harry trying to steady the racing of his heart. His voice is innocent, simply curious, but Harry knows better. Knows where this is going. 

Chelsea was the therapist they found together. Originally, it was going to be a couples thing. But trying to work through everything together proved to be difficult when Harry wouldn’t open up. He knows that. Knows that it’s his fault. 

“Um. Not recently, no.” 

“Not recently as in she’s on a vacation?” Louis asks. “Or not recently as in not once in the last three months?” 

Harry’s quiet and Louis knows the answer.

“ _Fuck_. What the hell, H?” He can feel Louis shift, the other boy turning to look at him as best he can in the dark room. “We _talked_ about this. That was the whole fucking reason--” Louis stops, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “That was the whole reason we even broke up, Harry. So you could talk to someone who could actually help.” 

“I know,” Harry mumbles. 

“Then why won’t you do it?” Louis asks, and the tone of his voice is sharper, volume rising. “If you _know_ , then why won’t you do it.” 

Harry closes his eyes tightly, gripping the blanket that’s covering him. He doesn’t want to fight. Doesn’t want to yell and he really, really doesn’t want to relive the last two months of their relationship tonight. Where all they did was fight because Harry couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell Louis what was going on. 

“Harry,” Louis’ voice is harsh now, but Harry knows why. He understands. “Why won’t you take care of yourself?” 

“Because I need you there too,” Is what Harry finally admits, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “I need you there too. Breaking up, it wasn’t a requirement for me to get help. I know we both decided but it was best, but that was stupid. It was stupid and I miss you.”

He can hear the moment Louis goes still mixed with the sound of his own racing heart. He roughly rubs his hands against his face, fresh tears pricking at his eyes. He really hadn’t wanted to cry while he was here. He lets the tears form for only a moment before he’s wiping his eyes again and sitting up. He brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

“Chelsea’s great,” Harry says, clearing his throat a bit. “And I do want to go. Want to at least try and get better. Talk to her. I just,” He sniffs and takes a slow breath. “It’s not easy? I feel like I’m just going insane. And Gem and everyone are just...too far to ask. But you’re also too far. Even though you’re right here. You were always right here.” Harry sighs. “It’s easier to pretend the problem doesn’t exist and just not go than it is to go without you. And I know that’s not fair. And I’m not asking you to go with me. Wouldn’t do that. Ever. It’s not your job to take care of me.” 

“You wouldn’t even tell me what was going on, H,” Louis points out. “We couldn’t even have a proper conversation with her together because you wouldn’t talk about it in front of me.” 

“I’m sorry I never told you what was going on,” Harry says quietly. “That was a mistake. The biggest mistake ever, ‘cause it cost me you.” 

The room is silent for a moment and Harry’s words are echoing around his head. 

“You should call Gem,” Louis says, his voice gentle again. “I love you, I will always love you. I’ve already said you’re the literal love of my life. But I think you need more than just me.” 

“I know that. S’why I’m not asking you to help. I’m just,” Harry huffs. “Explaining why I showed up at your home at two in the fucking morning. _Fuck_ ,” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Two in the morning. I’m so sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” Louis says softly, and Harry can feel his shrug. “Wasn’t sleeping very well myself. And I don’t mind the chat. Just hate what brought us to it.” 

Harry nods, sighing. 

“I should go, I think,” He shifts on the couch, beginning to push the blanket off of him to get up.

“It’s still late, H,” Louis murmurs. “And very dark. You shouldn’t drive.” 

Harry lets out a sigh, falling back onto the couch. Louis’ right. Just like he was right two hours ago when he stopped him from leaving the first time. And just like he was right three months ago when he tried to get Harry to talk about what was going on. 

So he slowly lies back down on Louis’ couch, adjusting the pillows and pulling the blankets back over him. He hears, rather than sees, Louis lie down on the floor beside him. It makes him smile just a bit, a weak one, just to know he’s not alone tonight.

\- - -

When Harry stirs again, it’s due to the sound of the kettle and the sunlight streaming through the windows. He reaches up to rub his eyes, wincing a bit at the brightness of the sun. He knows it’s early, but he also knows he’s not getting anymore sleep.

He sits up on the couch, inhaling deeply and letting out the breath before standing up and grabbing the blankets. He’s in the middle of folding the second one when Louis walks in, two cups of tea.

“Morning,” Louis murmurs, walking over and handing Harry a cup of tea. “You don’t have to do that,” He says, gesturing towards the blankets.

“Already did,” Harry says, shrugging. “Besides, it’s the least I can do. You let me stay here.” 

“Fair enough,” Louis says. He nods towards the kitchen. “I’ve got some eggs and stuff. You want some breakfast?” 

Harry hesitates. “Are you sure?” 

“Very. I need some breakfast before work and I’m almost positive you probably didn’t eat a real dinner last night.” Louis gives him a small smile. “C’mon.” 

And so Harry follows Louis to the kitchen, where they both set their mugs down on the counter and work together to make a quick breakfast. It’s everything Harry’s wanted in his entire life and he can’t believe he was stupid enough to mess it up. 

He stands in the kitchen with Louis, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow when Louis grabs a box of pancake mix -- the kind where you only need to add water. 

“I can feel your judgement, Harold,” Louis says, glancing at him. “We can’t all know how to make pancakes from scratch.” 

Harry holds his hands up in defense.

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Harry just laughs a bit, shrugging. It feels normal. Standing here with Louis and making breakfast feels normal and Harry is ever so grateful for it. 

“Do you have any eggs?” He asks after a moment. “Bacon, maybe? But turkey bacon. I don’t feel like the other stuff.”

“Might have,” Louis says, nodding towards the fridge. “You can check.” 

Harry walks over to the fridge then, grabbing the necessary items for the rest of their breakfast. They cook together in silence, mostly, floating around each other in a way that’s always been natural. And, as they move their food over to the table with their glasses of orange juice, Harry knows it is natural. It’s natural and domestic in a way that should have scared them away from each other years ago. It never did though. 

They sit at the table and Harry takes a bite of the pancakes Louis made first, making a small sound of approval. 

“You’ve gotten better,” he notes, eyes bright as he looks over at Louis. “These are great, Lou. Thank you.” 

“I learned a little from you,” Louis says back, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks.” 

The remainder of their breakfast is eating mostly in silence, a small tidbit of information shared between the two after every few bites. When Harry finishes what’s left on his plate, he looks up at the clock on the wall. 

“I should seriously go now,” Harry says after they finish their breakfast and he washes the plates. “You’re going to be late if I don’t.” 

“I suppose that’s true,” Louis gives. “You okay to drive, though?” 

Harry nods, he gives Louis a small smile as he walks over to the door where he left his stuff. 

“For the record,” Louis says after a moment, leaning against the wall by the hallway as he watches Harry gather his bag and slide his shoes on. “I missed you too. And you haven’t lost me.” 

Harry stops, looking back at Louis. He’s confused, of course, because usually when you break up with someone that’s exactly what happens. You lose that person. Lose that relationship. 

“That was never my intention,” Louis says gently, lips quirked in a small smile and Harry’s cheeks flushed pink. Whoops. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I should have been clearer that night. I should’ve explained better where my head was at.” 

Harry just nods slowly, still confused. 

“I didn’t want us to go three months without seeing each other, H,” He admits. “But I was afraid to call. I said some awful things to you. Things I didn’t mean. I thought that, maybe if I just stayed away, you would be able to figure out what was going on, causing everything. We should’ve talked about it, obviously, because apparently that was a shit plan.”

Harry lets out a bark of a laugh of that, nodding and blinking as he feels a new set of tears prick at his eyes. 

“You’re my best friend,” Louis murmurs. “I love you. I love us. I love being with you and learning from you and learning _with_ you. I didn’t want to break up, like, officially. I should’ve been more clear about that. But, like you were with everything you had going on, I was scared.” 

“Scared of what?” Harry asks.

“Saying the wrong thing. Doing the wrong thing,” Louis shrugs. “You’re everything, darling. The idea of hurting you when you were clearly already hurting and not telling me about it was on an entirely different level from anything we’ve ever faced. Even in the one year we were together.”

“And all the years we were friends,” Harry adds quietly, nodding.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “I’m sorry. I fucked up.” 

“Guess we both could have been clearer and more honest, then,” Harry says, his own mouth curving into a small smile. It may be the first time he’s properly smiled since he arrived at Louis’ house last night. 

“We could have,” Louis goes quiet then, watching Harry carefully. 

“Would you want us to be together?” Harry asks. “Still? Even after,” He gestures around them with his hand. “All of that?” 

“I love you,” Is all Louis says after a moment, shrugging. “I think space is good, and I’m not saying we should just jump back into each other, but I love you. And I would choose difficulties and lack of communication with you over some seemingly perfect person any day.” 

“You’d choose me,” Harry repeats. 

“I’d choose you,” Louis confirms, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’d choose you too,” Harry says. “Everyday. No matter the context.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment, just watching each other before Harry lets out a breath and looks away. 

“I should go,” He says. “Think I’ll call Chelsea and set up an appointment.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Louis says, and he looks like he is. Harry smiles at him, nodding. 

“Thank you.” 

“Give your sister a call too, okay? Let her know what’s going on. The rest of your family too.” 

“I will,” Harry promises, opening Louis’ door to leave. 

“Hey, H?” 

Harry turns.

“Is it okay for me to call?” He looks a little unsure, even after the conversation they’d just had and it makes Harry smile again. 

“Always.” Harry answers, adjusting the strap of his book bag on his shoulder before giving Louis a small wave and heading down to his car. 

_Always._


End file.
